Raised By She-Wolves

This is sort of a meandering thing, but I am starting with some theory, inspired by a little personal history and then getting to a writing application, so bare with me...

Boy Friends



And I don't mean boyfriends... I mean BOYS who are Friends... I was really BAD at this in my formative years. I think there is a good reason for this. I was an only child (no brothers) and my dad was, for the most part, absent, even before he died. Oh, sure, I had boy cousins, uncles... neighborhood kids... but I really had no awareness that boys were people (who knew?). I usually stammered awkwardly, or flirted badly (as in with poor skill, not as in overdoing it, though if I added alcohol, it tended to cross from the one to the other and there was a time I thought this meant I was succeeding.)



There were a few exceptions though, and I have analyzed it (blame my Virgo Moon). The boys I was capable of being great buddies with, without awkwardly walking the 'der, what do I say, am I supposed to flirt now?' thing, had SISTERS and tended to be raised by ONLY their mom... they were USED to being doused in estrogen. I have several male friends with whom things were FAR easier to find all the lines because THEY KNEW HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS! (so I didn't NEED to know how to talk to BOYS).

My Theory



Getting along with different types of people TAKES PRACTICE. Oh, sure, some people just have more social skills (or enough drive to develop them, or parents better able to teach them) but people exposed to a great variety of people will be better able to deal with them LATER.



I think in college, when I had my first 'exclusive' boyfriend, I managed friendships with HIS friends, and LEARNED how to do it... and in my 20s, nearly all of which, I was with my husband, though we didn't marry until I was 25, the OTHER men I got to know were ALSO just friends... I had finally mastered it... But it took security (on my part, this took the form of 'already taken, not looking') and opportunity (work or school environments where I MET and interacted when I wasn't looking... see, that LOOKING interfered a lot when I had no clue how to talk to boys and desperately wanted some media version of 'happy ever after' type love (STILL can't read romance... misleading tripe)...

But it goes for ALL KINDS of people! I think this low exposure is why people in small towns have misconceptions about certain religions, or underrepresented races... gay and lesbian people (as other that Daffyd, very few people want to be the ONLY gay in the village, so they move away). Cities expose us to more people who 'aren't like us' and open our minds that ALL people are people... but we STILL could use some practice interacting.





Now for the APPLICATION...



Want a rationale for why your character gets along better or worse with some group? Need a rationale for a tic or a quirk... a set of misconceptions? Give them a history! A lack of experience or a bad experience can lead to a whole mess of faulty attributions. This is especially true where there is an unfamiliar GROUP and a character's OWN group talks about them in certain prejudicial ways. But for something as simple as “can she talk to boys?” this is a great way to set up a realistic route of ineptitude.



If a character acts a certain way... has certain social skills or LACKS them, this is one of the many options for explaining and expanding on that... for REALLY getting your characters.





As for REAL Life...



Get to know people from as many walks of life as possible. The faulty attributions are only useful if you KNOW what is faulty attribution and what is real. Cultural differences really exist. So do stereotypes. Learning the difference is how you can keep from walking the wrong side of that line.



So there you have it... Advice a la Tart....

Free Time

Since my children flew across the country last Wednesday, I've decided the topic of free time needed to be explored and I've discovered some facts you MAY not know. I say MAY, because it is conceivable you've been keeping these misconceptions to yourselves in an evil plot to ridicule those of us who didn't know... it is plausible, even, that you are foul temptresses, taunting me with something that doesn't exist, in which case I mostly forgive you. But if you DIDN'T know 'free time' was only a myth, then in spite of MY OWN foul temptress leanings, I am here to set you straight.

Obligations Rise to Meet Availability



So my kids left Wednesday. You know what I had to do Wednesday night? GO TO A MEETING. I think I've been clear on my feelings about meetings.



Oh yes, you might argue the meeting would have still existed had the children still been present, but you see, had the children been PRESENT, then the meeting would have been an ESCAPE. Instead, with no children present, the meeting was TORTURE.



I think you can follow me on the math here... it's fuzzy math—the variety used by economists, but there is no flaw in my calculations. Something that is one thing in one circumstance, is another thing altogether in another. It has to do with opportunity costs, uncomfortable chairs and silly hats.

Pernicious Pestilence



And by pestilence I mean... erm... cleaning the bathroom. Doing the laundry. All those little projects I HATE. So much of my time is eaten by these little annoying things... Why can't they invent a self-cleaning bathroom... a self-cleaning litter box... self folding laundry... Any of you out there with an entrepreneurial spirit and a skill for inventing, those things would make you very very rich, and make ME very very happy... so happy, in fact, that you would be guaranteed a chair as a minor deity once the Naked World Domination Tour has completed it's takeover.

The Project Monster



So when the childings are gone and you are left alone with Mr. Tart, rather than the normally romantic leanings a proper man ought to have, this particular one looks around and says, “Maybe we could get some stuff done.”



Say what? Why?



Let's chop down the trees!



*Tart's internal Ent growls*



To be fair, it was actually my NEIGHBOR'S suggestion. The trees were between her garage and our fence... And while I LOVE the trees, they DO intertwine inappropriately with several varieties of wires... they were in fact SLUTTY trees, all tangled up all over the place, indiscriminate about who they wrapped their arms around...



And to be REALLY REALLY FAIR, my neighbor, as she recruited my husband for the tree murder project, she said, “and Tam, you can sit by the pool and write!” WOOHOO! (Did I tell you my neighbor is my hero?) So Saturday had me first editing, then typing, then even a little READING, which hubby climbed in the roof of neighbor's garage and cut branches, then they felled these trees as close to 'between wires' as they could manage, though there were admittedly some wires were loath to let go of their leaferly lovers...



Still, it was the best free time I GOT this weekend. And it wasn't FREE. It was a GIFT.

Team Meetings

And what I love about them.



Warning: the sarcasm will ooze, drip and seethe off the path. Be careful not to let it stain your skin.

Early Team Meetings



When I was wee, and by wee, I mean... maybe only five feet tall and prior to braces straightening my teeth, I was on a couple teams... these would be sports teams, other than that brief stint in sixth grade where I was one of Charlie's Angels... erm... where I was actually 11, not 12, but Paint can be unforgiving...  These teams (the sports ones) never met. There was a coach who told us when to be at practice. When to be at games. Who would cover what base. There wasn't very much thinking involved, and that is how it should be. My mom paid the Parks & Rec fee, some business donated shirts with their logo and the team name, which they deducted as 'advertising' and life was good.



In junior high things were about the same... only it was a coach. I don't think we had to buy anything—the suits and such belonged to the school and were checked out.  They were in varying degrees of disrepair—you had to pay if you wrecked it or lost it, but otherwise, it was all part of the public school budget. You did what the coach said, or you didn't get to be on the team anymore. Pretty simple.

In high school, I SWEAR I don't remember it being any different, though the only teams I was on were gymnastics (an individual sport--all 4 years) and two years of JV tennis, in which I was only a burden to Deb, my most frequent doubles partner (poor Deb—she was seriously more coordinated than me—thankfully she still likes me). But as to TEAMS? I suppose Varsity tennis might have had a captain—if JV did, this memory eludes me. Gymnastics never did.



(I think this pic was my junior year, so I was 16...erm... with late 70s hair, as it was Idaho and 5 years behind... I still HAVE those leg warmers and have been asked as recently as last winter where I bought them *shifty*)



So I escaped childhood virtually FREE of team meetings. I participated in events that had REHEARSALS... I was Moscow's Junior Miss (a fact relatively shocking in retrospect) so planning the next year's 'pageant' was SORT OF a team event, but REALLY there were adults doing most of the coordinating... I was asked for input on a number of things... but TEAM? MEETING? If it happened, I have blocked it entirely.





The Early Middle Meetings



In college my dorm we had a few meetings... I think two official ones where be planned a ski trip and got to know each other... then the 'meetings' that can be more accurately defines as parties... the Everclear Punch meeting, for instance... Or the Road Trip to Idaho Meeting that involved Crisco Twister *cough*



My sophomore year I joined a sorority... and then BOY DID I LEARN MEETINGS!? Pledge meetings. Rush meetings.... the meetings I can't tell you about without killing you after... Most of these involved a little input and a lot of pretending to pay attention. I think the most eventful one was the planning of the pledge class walk-out (we went to Rockaway Beach, as one of my pledge sisters had a mom who ran a motel there).



But are these team meetings? Not so sure...

The Later Middle Meetings



Of note...

only one of these Ad Men lacks a penis -->



So after college I got a job—over developed sense of responsibility shining through (I heard that. Stop laughing.). I worked for an advertising agency in Portland and I was on the McDonald's Team. Let me explain team meetings for you. The Tart (shiny and fresh from college) plans the meeting, takes notes at the meeting and does all the work for the meeting and after the meeting. The other team members make unreasonable demands... late in this job, there was a portion of the meeting in which we all compared penis sizes. I didn't fare well. My penis is very very small.



Meetings though, DID involve good food... sometimes involved exotic locations (the Maui Hilton, for instance, or the Camelback in Scotsdale). I got to pretend I was an important advertising executive (when really I was unimportant—first an account coordinator then an ASSISTANT account executive... with no penis)



I eventually decided advertising wasn't for me. (did I mention I don't have a penis?)





So I went to graduate school, where the meetings all involved beer. They typically occurred at the Cheerful Tortoise ($2 micros during happy hour—oh sure... it was 1993) or Hot Lips Pizza. These were the BEST TEAM MEETINGS YET! Intellectual conversation, critiquing each other's papers (the Tart learns peer review!)... with good BEER! (And only ONE of us had a penis, and he seemed THRILLED to hang out with a bunch of people who didn't! Go figure. 



Coinciding with the Master's program was the PUB JOB. These meetings ALSO involved beer, unless you were on the night shift (which because I was going to school during the day, I typically was) but it was AT LEAST good company. And sometimes Eli and I would get in trouble because we couldn't look at each other without breaking into laughter for no reason (well, lots of reasons, but never one in particular--on this planet, this is the person with whom I had the greatest mind-meld, and I've had some pretty darned good mind melds) and people always thought we were making fun of them, which—because we never WERE made it even funnier--many tears (of laughter) were shed... that was a definite bonus.







The Current Team Meetings



So then I went and had some childings, right? And things have CHANGED since I was a childing... Oh, sure... there were the years of Rec & Ed sports (each parent signs up for a snack day... volunteers asked to help coach (you still have to PAY for your child to participate if you coach--WTF?)... hubby's being head coach... Tart's required to master scoring—(you laugh—I see you... yes the double entendre is apt... and telling you it is baseball only makes you snicker harder). These sports teams have varied widely in the degree of pain and pleasure they offer... seems to differ by sport.



I STILL miss the girls softball family... my daughter played with the same girls for several years, and while she only liked some subset of the girls, I REALLY liked almost all of the families. This is our 3rd year away from them and it was a great part of summer.



Rec & Ed is also partly responsible for my harsh critique of the families of my SON'S peers. In my daughter's cohort, there were always volunteers, always people involved (occasionally annoying people, sure, but mostly good people, and plenty of them). In my SON'S cohort, if the kid my son's age is the oldest... RARELY involved. You have to threaten root canal's to get them to do ANYTHING and when they volunteer, follow-through was POOR. (there are exceptions--the photographer dude is GREAT-- but as a rule). Drives my husband, the would-be-dictator crazy. When he coached he wanted SO BADLY to not let kids play if they missed practice or were late to the game. HELLO FREAKING PARENTS... WE ARE ALL COUNTING ON YOU! (if there is a phone call, fine... conflicts happen, but no communication... just not THERE, until... hello, third inning?)



Still... no meetings...



Middle school sports? No meetings.



BUT HOLY FREAKING MOTHER COW!



Yeah... the high school sports? They have meetings... team meetings. Parent meetings. FREAKING SPORTS BANQUETS. Sheesh! I don't want to know ANY of these people this well!



Okay, that's only a little true. My daughter played three sports last year, and honestly, the swim families are pretty nice. For families who swim, it really is more like religion. Chlorine seeps from their pores. I volunteered to do concessions a few times and my husband timed for most of the home meets—they were organized, welcoming... really WONDERFUL... other than the six hour meeting at the beginning of the season where we dropped over $300. (that particular meeting was last night, and the thing that inspired this post).



The Synchronized swim families were a mixed bag... some real nice, some less socially adept... It was smaller though, and not quite as externally organized... I'm not even sure we WENT to that meeting... just got emails from the coach.



Water Polo? What a MESS! Water Polo is an aggressive sport inspiring aggressive parents with chips on their shoulders, or so it seemed. My husband tried to learn scoring but nobody would tell him (like they'd pissed a circle around the scoring table—seriously) and it was organized like a bug circus. Nobody knew what the hell was going on because these parental pissing matches impeded communication... My daughter loves the sport, but MAN, I hope some of those parents graduated *shifty*

<-- (one of captains) And NOW... My Favorite Things About Team Meetings



*My husband pointing out all the evidence he could do it better.

*The fact that 'Michigan time' (aka: half hour late) is so universally understood.

*The thirty minute speeches by each of four captains about how great swimming is.

*Writing checks when there is no money in my account.

*Learning they've discontinued the warm-ups we paid $150 for last year.

*Spending $85 on a swim suit.

*People who seem to actually LIKE these features.

*Evidence none of these OTHER moms have to work.

*My husband refusing to let me read between important points.

*My husband telling me to sign up then lecturing me I did it wrong.

*Volunteering 47 hours of my time IN THE FUTURE.



At least though... this is the batch I can get along with... Good girls. Good parents. It matters (even if it is still time-consuming and expensive)

Fighting an Infection

This is a strained metaphor in poor taste, but y'all KNOW I can't help myself.



So two weeks ago, I was walking home from work, reading (as usual) and not really paying much attention. The day before in the same spot (I remembered after the fact) lighting had downed a big branch. I'd stopped to assess the two squashed cars and people standing around saying, 'this sucks!' as having your car squashed by a large branch does INDEED suck.



Now in my defense, I WAS paying enough attention not to walk into that downed branch the day before... but when everything had been cleared away... well I only have so much attention to spare... so I stepped on a stick. No big deal, right. Stick, schmick. WRONG! The stick was curved and forked and obviously EVIL. It popped up and positioned itself so that it could IMPALE my calf!

Now it hurt pretty bad, and I swore at the stick (which didn't have the decency to even apologize) and I kept walking... until I felt the trickle... I looked more closely. Apparently being impaled causes BLOOD. I got out a cloth from my bag (the emergency back up hanky) and applied pressure, then I LOOKED at the darned thing... Being impaled ALSO leaves a big freaking hole in the leg (assuming the leg is where you were impaled.) It was only a flesh wound though, so I hobbled home, cleaned it up, put on a bandage... and have proceeded to have an unattractive wound on my leg for a few weeks now.



Last week my boss, who normally works in another building and had been on vacation for a week to boot, saw this and freaked out. Had I seen a doctor? Had I used hydrogen peroxide to clean it? Did I want her to call me in a prescription for anti-biotics? No. No. and No. The hydrogen peroxide WOULD have been a yes, if we HAD any, but there was none. Soap and water had had to suffice. But a DOCTOR? Anti-biotics? For an (admittedly ugly) wound that is no worse that say... a skinned knee?

And Here We Come to Philosophy Differences



My boss, the MD, puts great stock in MEDICINE. The Tart, a nudist, naturalist, and environmentalist, sort of thinks sometimes it is best to let nature take its course. I'm not STUPID. I get my tetnus shots when they force me—which would be, I think, the only infection I couldn't handle. But I happen to think our bodies need practice fighting these MINOR things, so there are anti-bodies built up for BIGGER stuff--the stuff they don't even KNOW about yet that is mutating BECAUSE we use medicine for everything and those bugs think they have a right to exist too.



I don't get a flu shot. I would have exposed my kids to chicken pox instead of getting THAT shot except my husband had never had them, and for an adult they can be so dangerous. I don't take medicine unless it is BAD—the bottle of acetaminophen in my office EXPIRED in 2006 and is still half full... that is how rarely I resort to it.

I've noticed that every time one of my kids switches schools, we have a bad year for colds and minor inflictions... it is a NEW batch of germs and we need to learn to fight them. And we do... the next year it is better... in fact now that my kids are 15 and 11, I think we have most of the Ann Arbor germs down...



Now I may be totally cracked. In fact in other domains, I'm quite sure of it. But I think this serves me pretty well, most of the time.





And there is a WRITING Metaphor (as always, ne?)



We could do our writing and then send it on to a professional editor (the literary MD)... they could work with it and hammer it out so it's nice and lovely, yes? And we may be successful there, and it might be a PERFECT solution. But then we'd write our next book, and we only would have learned a few of the lessons of the hammering out. We only would have gotten the peripheral benefit of watching and listening. We WOULD NOT have the experience of doing it ourselves.



Yes, doing it ourselves takes longer. Yes it's more painful. Yes, there is typically whiskey involved. But the next time it comes around, the required skills are in our docket, practiced and ready to go, so it is EASIER. We may have another tier of lessons when we try a new genre, or target a new audience, or hit a new milestone, but by being primary participants, I think we are better equipped to get stronger and grow.



This is NOT necessarily a self-publish endorsement, as in some cases I think THAT is more like deciding to go to school sick and spreading your germs (not always... some people have mastered the self-healing powers and are good to go)--I just feel compelled to point out that putting on clothes and stepping out the door is not a clean bill of health.



But mostly, I think the personal effort to conquer these things is good for us, as it arms us for future fights.



I know I said not this weekend, but as it is now WRITTEN, I think this will work for the Sunday/Monday blog... so there...

Toilets and Editing

So because it is summer, we thought forcing our children into labor was a nice character-building experience (though our children are much older and less content than this laboring child). Our son, ever the miser, is pretty much willing to do anything for money. Our daughter, on the other hand, thinks her time is worth a treasure trove, and there is nothing we could pay her that would be equal to the work time she puts in. We have to disallow all social contact until certain requirements are met, because she is 'all that' otherwise, she will do NOTHING.



Her task yesterday was the bathroom. She cleans much like my husband, but even MORE annoyingly superficially. My husband hates my piles and stacks, but he's never lifted a THING to clean under it. He tidies, I SCRUB. My daughter doesn't even angle to clean the exposed, but not obvious, just yet.



Oddly though, she was thoroughly offended with my RECLEANING the toilet.



And thus begins the writing metaphor.





Sometimes we WANT to know... we want to keep improving... and sometimes we just prefer to get away with what we can. It depends on our goals, I suppose... and how much of ourselves we invest in the identity.



My daughter has no identity whatsoever tied up in our toilet (which is probably good, cleanliness notwithstanding). I suppose that means the bathroom is NOT her book.





But what does it mean for the rest of us?





So do we want a white glove test of our stuff? Do we want to be our own worst critic, obsessed with the quality of EVERYTHING? Do we want to have an impressive entry to just lure people into the house? Maybe an impressive entry can intrigue a decorator who can guide us through the improvements we need?



I guess my philosophy is clean it so it is approachable, then have a nice PARTY and ask the opinions of our friends on how we ought to rearrange... then we choose the suggestions that seem really groovy—do THOSE and then clean it up before inviting the important people over. Because if we take ALL the suggestions, it is no longer our house. And if it is too sterile, then it is boring.



But how we want to clean it is ultimately a decision of personality and goal. I am not a clean person—I know that. I ask for help. Some people are VERY clean.... Probably there are some non-writing types so clean they are too boring to produce anything interesting (my bias against cleanliness is probably showing).





So how do you like to go about your cleaning? Are you tempted to pretend it is clean before it it done? Are you too hard on yourself?





And a little game, courtesy of Rosie C. who tagged everyone interested, but of course, suffering from FOMS, I am pretty much always interested....



1. Your name/Blog's name

2. Are you right-handed or left-handed?

3. What are your favorite letters to write?

4. What are your least favorite letters to write?

5. Write: "The quick, brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."

6. In CAPS, write: "BABOON, SPLENDOR, ONOMATOPOEIA, FLIP-FLOPS, HUZZAH!"

7. Your favorite song lyrics are?

8. Make sure you tag 7 people to join in on the fun.

9. Tickle your fancy and add a special quip for us to enjoy.



1.  Hart Johnson/Confessions of a Watery Tart

2.  Right handed. HOPELESSLY right handed.

3.  A, D, T and lower case b, f, q, x, y and z.

4.  C, I, U. Nothing lower case bugs me.

5 and 6 -->

7.You Learn (Alanis Morrisette)

8.Consider yourself tagged.

9.  It's THURSDAY and you know what THURSDAY means!!!



(these are the bedside books you would have if you are ever a house guest at the Tart's house.)





Okay my friends—hope you have a fabulous day!

Write Stages

You know, I have a lot of writing friends who would LOVE to write more... fit in that time for a book... but they are at points in their lives with greater priorities—shaping the young lives and minds of the small people they created, attending college where nobody ever quite has time to do what the coursework requires, let alone a side project, working a time consuming job... maybe more than one of these at once. And you know what... I guess I think that is a legitimate reason that NOW is not WHEN. I guess I ALSO think there is not a reason to think that just because NOT NOW, doesn't mean NOT EVER. And maybe there are some ways to keep us linked to the writing world, so when it IS time, we have our framework in line to jump in with both feet.



So I'm going to talk a little about MY life stages (and how writing fit or didn't), and see if I might come up with anything useful for anybody. First off, I should probably say that the last time I didn't work full time was when I was a full time bachelor's student... I had some money for college, and other than an expectation that I would work summers for my own clothing expenses, I had room, board and a small spending fund—I think it was $200 a month, which, considering I was fed already, covered it most of the time. Some people have to work in college—I was lucky enough not to. Some people DON'T have to work later—sadly, I was never one of these... your story may deviate.

High School/College



I wrote. I wrote a lot. But what I WROTE was what was necessary to maintain sanity in this emotionally turbulent time. I wrote poetry, I wrote letters, I wrote long journal entries... Other than a few 'outlines' of books and a short story class for which I was CLUELESS, I didn't write the kind of stuff I knew I eventually WANTED to write. I looked at it as a pipe dream... like the modeling and acting that I actually KNEW would never happen. Writing a novel seemed that far out of my realm of possibility, but I wrote other stuff.



Now the writing at that stage happened late at night... it was my unwind before bed, when homework had been abandoned. Though I also have pages and pages of poems from the back of class notebooks... times I wasn't paying attention or was waiting for the teacher... or digressing from studying.



Almost all of this stuff is angsty. I was a relatively happy person (it's my nature) but I never felt compelled to WRITE when happy... give me a little melancholy or bitterness and I was good to go.

Post College/First Job



I worked at an advertising agency and wrote nearly NOTHING. I worked hard—relatively long hours. I lived with friends. I socialized pretty much every evening. I belonged to a 'club' to work out and hit a 7pm aerobics class most nights. I met my to-be husband just 2 months into this job, but he worked for a bakery, so had to be there EARLY—it meant we mostly saw each other weekends, but STILL I managed to have no time. It just takes a lot of energy to be a 20-something gal.



Marriage didn't change anything... we still went out a lot.No writing.

Grad School



Oddly, this is when I got back to writing. I did prerequisties and then my first year, all the while working full time as an Uber-worker at a microbrewery—Uberworker because the philosophy was all people did everything... I preferred being the cook. I would joke “I'm not a people person” and I was pretty fast on the grill, so I got my way a lot (Friday cook at the Broadway McMenamins for about 2 years, which anyone whose ever been there knows means I had to kick some burger BUTT). But when I finished my first year of grad school and faced summer... I had a BRAIN ready to go, and no real WORK that needed doing. I began my first novel. I wrote 250 pages (single spaced) of a horror novel based partially in Portland's Grunge scene, partially in Northern Idaho (the 'haunted' area to one end of Lake Coeur d'Alene) There was some good... mostly I didn't know how to plot, but I loved the character stuff... and then school started again, so it got left behind... The FOLLOWING summer I had my thesis on the table, then the decision to have a baby, which left me SLEEPING 14 hours a day. (Thing 1 totally took it outa me)





New Mom



Keep in mind I was STILL working full time, PLUS thinking I needed to finish my thesis, PLUS being a mom... I should maybe mention I was also separated during this for about 18 months, so full-time working SINGLE mom... (you may spot why the book remained abandoned)



I finally finished my thesis when my daughter was 2 and went from 2 jobs (still pubbing, plus a research assistant job I'd done to fulfill the data collection piece, since my thesis used secondary data)... and the Research shop hired me full time... (did you hear me sigh in relief to only have one job?)



This part of my life was INSANE--[physically and emotionally], but I think it also built my stamina—I know I can DO two jobs and be a mom (provided I don't have to housekeep much). It makes NOW not look like much.





Middle Mom



Moving to Michigan meant kids starting school (2 kids now)--the hubby was the at-home parent and I worked, but I had homework and reading duties (and bath) with the childings... so for several more years it seemed pretty busy...

Middle-late Mom



And we've arrived at now... I have taken a bath most nights since my first pregnancy—it helps me relax... I typically read... when I discovered HPANA and got back to the writing, this is when it fit... then bathtime expanded... Where it had been 9-10, it became 8:30-10:30 as the kids quit reading with me—which it remains... I know... sounds like ages to soak, but I love it. I usually Sudoku first to turn OFF the day, then I write...(I also type and blog on my computer before that)





I guess my point is, though I've been driven to write since I was young, my need to have a job (never negotiable), my commitments to school and family... made it so I really didn't have TIME until now.





I think though, there are SOME things, that... had I BELIEVED in myself before, I might have done to stay connected... I had that bath time... had I committed to 30 minutes a day of writing... it would have helped with discipline... finding writing communities to talk to a little—especially some people who had similar obstacles... though I gotta be honest... the time suck would have been BAD for my career (not sure it's very good for my career NOW.)



Carry the notebook... write when you can... lunch, at the park watching the kids... When the identity commitment is made, I think we find a way...



ABSOLUTELY find a place to share some of your work. It is heartening to get feedback—that is why the fan fiction setting was so perfect for me. I would post and someone would respond... and it was encouraging... they LIKED it... I still think there isn't a better training ground for someone who really isn't sure where to start. It gives you as much or as little superimposed structure and character as you want, so you can work on a couple components at a time.



So I guess I am wanting both to VALIDATE people who identify as writers but have trouble making time, and PLEAD with them to examine how they might stay connected anyway...



HA! (see that—there was a point).

The USA and My Mother

The parallel problems of a woman with Authority issues.

I should probably warn you right of the bat that it is likely I will offend anyone who is very patriotic. That's what I do though, stick my foot in my mouth, and this pair of relationships really DOES have a lot in common, so there you have it.

I'm a bad patriot. And a bad daughter.

You see, I don't like to be told what to do. I sort of live my life more along the lines of the Hippocratic oath than any following of laws, per se. Just because it is the rule, is JUST not good enough. I admit most rules are rules to avoid people getting hurt (those I follow) or to help us coordinate with each other (those are mostly okay), but the 'it's the law' never flew with me.



I am of the belief that world empirical domination of nations have about a century per country to run their course. The Dutch had the 1600s. The British the 1700s. The French the 1800s.... and the USA the 1900s. But you see, in the few decades of 'no longer able to make everybody bend at our feet' ALL these countries have behaved badly for a while. It is currently the US's turn.



This is not to excuse it. Just to point out that I think it is the natural course of events. So there are A LOT OF PEOPLE in the US trying to 'go back' to some (mythical, I might add) good old days, and trying to force other nations to RECOGNIZE our superiority, which frankly, we just don't have anymore.



But a girl isn't supposed to criticize her mother... I promise at the end I will try to make some amends. How's that?



But first I want to go through some of the trouble, where I am concerned...

Disparate Desires

(what she says/what she really means)



My Mother

“I want you to have choices!” (to work or stay home)/but under no circumstances are you to allow your partner those choices—HIS only option should be to work. Choice is for you alone.



“You can't count on somebody else taking care of you—you need skills.”/And nobody should count on YOU either. Only inferior people can't take care of themselves financially.

“You are such a strong, independent woman.”/But I'm too sensitive for that, so don't inflict any of that strength on ME.



(about a woman we know who forgave a cheating husband) “She is so forgiving, amazing really. I don't know if I could have done that.”/because forgiveness is something we TALK about being good, but really that just isn't what we DO. It's all well and good in theory, but it lets people off the hook.



My Country

“Individualism and an entrepreneurial spirit are what made this country great”/but now that we're great already, it is time for everybody to fall into line.



“We are the world's melting pot.”/but the fondue is ready and we've started eating, so don't put anything ELSE in there! Anyone to arrive after world war II really is just unable to contribute, unless of course they are willing to work under the table for less than minimum wage in dangerous conditions—in THAT CASE it's just good for Capitalism.



“We have Separation of Church and State.”/but of course presume everyone is Christian, so it doesn't matter anyway... unless someone tries to do something that some small subset of this group finds offensive! THEN YOUR BUSINESS IS OUR BUSINESS!





Compounded by Daddy Issues



My dad was mostly a great big kid. He was too loud. He drank too much. (funny, some people say those things about me). He was macho, and he was reckless. MOSTLY, because he was also good-natured, he was also just pretty fun, instead of scary. But you know what you DON'T want to do with a macho, reckless guy who drinks too much? Encourage him to play with explosives. The fourth of July, with my macho (need I say Patriotic—that is PART of macho in my world—or maybe the problem REALLY is that I see MACHO as part of Patriotic, and macho is not my favorite feature), reckless, drunk dad and his EXPLOSIVES was the only time he really SCARED ME.



We usually spent the fourth at my grandparents' lake cabin, located on an Indian Reservation in northen Idaho—reservations mean two things among the macho... no TAX on alcohol and cigarettes, and no LIMITS on what is legal for fireworks. This addition of explosives divided family and friends solidly into two camps. The safe, sane (boring) camp, and the reckless, drunken, blowing-shit-up camp. Explosions from one team. Shrieks from the other... usually for an entire three day weekend. And when I was a KID, I loved it.



It is currently however, tied in my mind to 1976—US Bicentennial. The fourth happened six days before my dad died driving drunk—too fast on a gravel road—and somehow the sound track for me of that memory, is the weekend of the fourth of July.



Oh, I'm mostly over it. My husband and some neighbors do a group fireworks thing in our street, and I love sitting out in the front yard—talking to neighbors, catching fireflies, drinking cocktails. I may drink too much, but I am NEVER the one blowing stuff up, and I ALWAYS plea for 'pretty lights' instead of explosions. But the fourth is STILL not my favorite holiday.

Back to being a bad patriot and daughter



I really probably need to work through the same stuff with mom and country I have with my dad... seeing the flaws, but ALSO being willing to see the good. There is good. I just have often resisted seeing it. Maybe that is what I should work on this year...



The US has AMAZING and varied geography, a fabulous collection of cultures, enough resources that a good portion of our population has a ton of opportunity (even if it bothers me that those opportunities are unfairly distributed).



And my MOM, gave me a great foundation—a belief I could do ANYTHING I wanted to do—hard work and determination were the only limiting factors. My confidence, my work ethic, my unwillingness to give up—those are from my mom. Not bad, as legacies go.



I need to work on that acceptance thing... the forgiveness I accuse my mom of not having... few things improve if we wait for everybody else to change first.



and so I don't leave you thinking I have no patriotic spirit, please enjoy the following...

Muppet Independence Day Tribute

Burrowing Birthday

So I am posting at a time that it is NATASHA'S birthday in India (and a THURSDAY!) and my birthday in the states... yesterday this time, plus 2 hours, it was Jason's birthday in the Pacific Time Zone and MINE on the east coast... I like how we overlap like that...



I've LEARNED this week, that I also have a new blogger friend Leigh with a birthday today (the 24th today, not the hour remaining of the 23rd)... So we are having a BIRTHDAY PARTY!

I've decided, based on the vast experience I've had *cough* that Cancers are particularly fond of having a NICE LONG birthday celebration... typically measured in weeks, but sometimes in months. It may have SOME root in liking to be at the center of things, but I think it is ALSO tied to just liking a really good party.







A Little Reminiscing



When I was REALLY young, birthdays were a little rough... a summer birthday, as a kid, means no cupcakes at school, half your friends away when it is party time... it is a let down of sorts to pass the milestone in absence of a grand fiesta... maybe that is what the 'making up for it' is about... But my grandparents, and later my parents, had a lake cabin, so I grew to appreciate 'a few friends to the lake' instead of a BUNCH of friends to the house.



About the time I hit high school though, I decided my extended family was fabulous (not that I hadn't known earlier, but family + one or two friends was PERFECT)...



I think my favorite birthday was my 16th—not a sweet sixteen, but a family party to which I convinced my crush to come... My mom bought a whole bunch of crabs (my favorite food) and it just was very nice...



Through college it seems birthdays were no big deal—I was barely home from school for summer, Oregon being on a quarter system... but when I got to Portland after college, and proceeded to live with my best friend for a while, we took up the habit of throwing EACH OTHER birthday parties (she is just a week later than me, and really GETS that a birthday should be a nice grand event...) I really miss her this time of year... The hubby never HAS gotten it...





The Cusp of Gemini Bond



Look what I found!

I was an adult before I really knew anybody born closer to my birthday than... say the 26th or 27th... I know lots of July Cancers, and TONS of June Geminis, but that Cancer/cusp of Gemini... I just didn't run across too many. I STILL haven't run across that many, but every last one of them I meet (other than the children, who probably just aren't there yet) are writers... compelled... possibly unnaturally. We are ruled by the moon both as ruler and sub-ruler, which means our fingers are on the emotional pulse of... pretty much everything... we feel big, we emote... but instead of getting all dramatic about it (as we would in the LAST deconate of Cancer under Leo's influence) we want to COMMUNICATE about it... I love that blurb that suggests rather than Gemini mediating the cancer emotion, instead CANCER gives the creativity to the Gemini intellect.  They are the letters and numbers... Cancer gives it STORY.



I think there also runs a slight detachment to all this drama we are documenting—we are part of it as historians and recorders, not propagators... I've never seen Natasha or Jason fly off the handle... Oh... Natasha can get irritated, but THAT is just that Indian culture encourages directness—it tends to be things that irritate me, too, but I have that instilled “if you can't say anything nice...” thing going on... But we aren't the CAUSE of the drama... none of us (oh, sometimes I annoy—I am just a little too... much... but I say that is other people being hypersensitive). Still, we note it... we turn it into story fodder, or blog meanderings... Our emotions are very real, but in the form of WORDS.





So now that I've projected my personality onto my Burrow mates because I think I'm right... LET'S PARTY!!!!!

We need some beverages...



I can offer you microbrews, fruity rum things (or fruity rumless things if you prefer), ritas, or the champagne fountain.





Some music...



We've got a fine tropical beat to encourage the LIMBO!

Some boys to dance like I like... (don't ever let them tell you the Tart doesn't like anything classy!--Oh, I know they'll try, but this guy is doing BALLET!)

Though I wouldn't want you to think I had limited range...











And a little truth or dare.



EITHER:



1) tell YOUR most memoroable birthday or

2) Streak down the hall in the buff...



Hope you all have a FABULOUS day!

Dark Tart/Light Tart

Y'all have heard me grumble about my crabby hubby from time to time, yeah? You know he can be difficult? I had a big giant reminder this week as to WHY such a light hearted, happy-go-lucky gal as myself might choose such a person as a partner... let me e'splain...

Dark and Mysterious Leanings



I've mentioned before that though I am drawn a little like Barbie's flat-chested little sister, I prefer to think of myself as more of a Vixen, a Wench, a... yes, I'll say it, a TART. I don't CARE that I don't look the part, I crave sexy, naughty and shocking as part of my identity. I will NOT behave, and I refuse to let YOU without doing my darndest to make sure you know this other way is more fun. So there.



I even like a little DRAMA, though I prefer the variety that can be put on and taken off over the kind that sort of buries you.  Because over all, I'm relatively HAPPY, and like to stay that way...

Mistreating the Nice Guy



Since I don't look the part though (the Vixen-Tart), I have periodically attracted NICE guys. And here is where we get to my reminder...



I didn't really have a 'boy friend' in high school, per se—oh there were BOYS, and I went on dates, and there were the normal hanky-panky things, but the things that were emotionally serious, were NOT exclusive or monogamous. See, I was typically drawn to the BAD BOYS who didn't go in for that sort of thing.



Get to college and I met a very cute, very NICE boy who was interested in more, and it was a time when I was sort of craving something more committed. And it took, and we spent all our time together, and it was really pretty wonderful until my dark corners started demanding attention.  I'd learned some of my naughty lessons from those bad boys, and had internalized them...



Turns out if the PARTNER I choose isn't dark and dangerous, maybe I will make up for the fact. I wasn't very nice in the end... not admirable or worthy of someone who deserved to be treated better. That craving for drama? Oh yeah... I can create it.



I've mentioned I'm a collector, yes? If a person is ever in my life they are FOREVER in my life (including all of you--you know that, right?)—and it's true. At my wedding I had four exes of assorted seriousness. But until this week, this nice boy from college was the exception. He'd cut me off (and deservedly so). But this week, just when I was so irritated with Mr. Darkness, I got a friend request on facebook for the nice guy... reminding me conclusively why I NEEDED to be married to someone DARK. Because otherwise it would be me.







The Sane One



In my marriage there have been some lousy times (and some wonderful ones, but it is the lousy ones I'm writing about, as they are more pertinent to my point—yes, there's a point). I have sometimes wanted to fall apart—wanted to melt down or have fits. But you see, in a family, somebody has to be the SANE one. I've noticed, reading other people's blogs—hearing other people's stories, that SOMETIMES that sanity role falls on the kids and my heart goes out to those people—it isn't fair and is too heavy a burden. Thus far though, in my own life, I've managed to be the sane one.  Had I MARRIED the sane one, I might be the nut (or more likely the drunk)--whatever the case... it falls to me to create the BALANCE.







The Writing Outlet



I LOVE this idea in literature... sane people who suddenly have the leeway to fall apart... people who might otherwise fall apart but the situation demands they hold it together for a while... situational sanity interests me greatly.  As does the balance in a family... the character holding it together while things fall apart around her.



I also like that writing now affords me a channel for my darkness. I didn't used to have this on the same level (in fact with the college boyfriend I quit writing, as he wanted to READ everything and was very disturbed when the darkness showed), so I had to make up for it in LIFE, but NOW, I can just write the darkness. Not sure my hubby has gotten the message yet--that he no longer needs to be my darkness and can just be happy and nice now, but I see moments of sanity, so hopefully he will get there...

Schrödinger's Cat

I told you I'd been thinking about Schrödinger's Cat. I wasn't lying—I wouldn't lie to you! It's actually a sort of apt application, too, though FIRST: SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

I've drawn the winner from the giveaway last week and I'd like to congratualate Alica (Fire & Ice)! The light and journal are on their way!





And back to the story of the day...  erm... in a minute...



I think another explanation for my stress lately is the uncertainty of what the next few months will hold. It is this or that, and I won't know until I know... Let me e'splain...



To start off... feeling much better now... Why?



I have Powered Through



The Tart is in STREAM ROLLER form! Obstacles BAHAHA! You're NOTHING! Waiting? POO! I have all the time in the world! Editing? PISH! You don't scare me! I am WRITING!



I think I have all of you to thank for returning my attitude, and this Cracker song, my favorite of theirs, says it fairly perfectly:

I See The Light by Cracker



I'd really like to see you now

In your father's combat boots

I'd really like to be with you

'Cause we could be so dark





It was only for the grace of you

That I got this attitude

I'll show you my gratitude

When I make it through





I see the light at the end of the tunnel now

(I see the light)

Someone please tell me it's not a train

(Train, I see the light)

I see the light at the end of the tunnel now

(I see the light)

No time to speak, no time to explain





Sometimes I imagine you lying in your bed

Sometimes do you imagine too?

Do you sometimes lust

For the grace that others have inside?





The simple peace they make with life

They feel love like some summer's night

Well, I want it too



chorus chorus, blah blah blah (it doesn't really say chorus chorus blah blah blah, you know... it has more words, but they are mostly words already there... *deadpans*)

I love the idea of lusting for the grace that others have inside, the simple peace they make of life. Isn't that a lovely idea? It's like a big sexy Buddha or something.



And in case you're wondering what kind of twist I've gone around, I am practicing SELF TALK. So there... getting all philosophical and stuff... But the way I figure it, you guys REALLY helped pull me up day before yesterday.



Side Assistance



I've also been First Reading my way through some stuff for friends of mine and LOVE the process. When I do that, I become more objective in MY stuff. I notice things that aren't quite right—things about pacing or tension that I have a hard time spotting in my oh-so-familiar manuscripts, but coming back after the more objective read gives me distance.



I also also (yes, two alsos) took Jan's advice... hmmm... how to distinguish the Jans.... both Canadian, both tarts in their way... though I suppose only the one is OFFICIALLY a tart... Maybe I should go with province... Nova Scotia Jan wrote herself a letter of edits to make in the future... THAT allows you to stop worrying about it NOW because you won't forget (or stress about forgetting)... I adopted it and wrote... okay, so my version was more like a list... but it DID help to write it down... release the tension of this 'at some future date' editing project.

So where is the damn cat?



It's coming. You see, I have a PLAN! (a plan you say? I see some of you running away screaming. I know there are some pantsers out there, but I can't abide by pants. I need a PLAN) [never mind that I rarely follow said plan; it still makes me feel better to make one]





THE PLAN



1)  I have two ideas looming, but you KNOW my theory about stewing, yes? The ideas need to stew before they are properly fermented (because who wants to tell a sober tale, ne?) BUT writing SCENES before they are fully fermented actually HELPS this process. I am okay with the fact that these scenes are never recognizable in the final project. They still help me get to know my characters. So until I hear about the cozy (the answer of which is my Cat), I am writing SCENES.



2)  When I HEAR about the Cozy Gig, I reach the point where I know whether the cat is ALIVE (I get the gig) or dead (I don't get the gig). (see how it fits? I won't know whether it's alive or dead until... I find out. Until then, both the alive and the dead exist and I have to plan for them! *snort *)

*   If I GET the gig, I then write the cozy

*   If I DON'T get the gig, I then EDIT LEGACY until June 1



3)  (We're still on Schrodinger's cat—two versions, equally real (or unreal). Because until you know, you never know, eh?) But on BOTH FORKS, as of JUNE 1, the Burrow is doing a NoWriMo (BuNoWriMo)--and you are WELCOME to join us. Our reasoning is that November is a baddish month for anyone educationally affiliated (which is about half of my group if you count students, teachers and other academics)

*   So if I GET the gig, I am going to madly write the book I am SUPPOSED to be writing

*   If I DON'T get the gig, I am going to write the ghost story that is currently stewing.



4)  In JULY I edit. No matter what. The Cozy or Legacy. Then, whichever one goes to FIRST readers, and we get back to being cats.

*   In presence of Cozy, Legacy will be 2nd editing project.

*   In absence of Cozy, Deniability will be 2nd editing project.



5)August I get reader feedback and finalize whichever one is the next polished work for a September send out.



Probably that is as far as I oughta plan...

Pay It Forward

Erm... but let me whine a bit first. *shifty* You may or may not have noticed, but I've been in a bit of a funk and nobody needs a Funk-Tart. It is multi-tiered and every level throws in its own noise.



First, I just returned from traveling, which throws my routine off. I dived RIGHT into edits that had to be turned around quickly for the cozy audition, so there was no real mental REGROUP. Then we get to the big stuff.



Last Thursday I was in a fair amount of pain (throat), was achy, possibly even fevered, and I had the kind of sinus thing going on that gives you a headache and slow drip (as opposed to plugging me up). I stayed home from work Friday, proceeding to sleep 12 hours, which knocked out the sore throat and aches, but the head stuff stayed (and the work pile mounted).

Then Saturday my husband's midlife crisis flared (he's been having this since he was around 27, mind you-but it comes and goes). When it's bad though, it's bad. He is smoking again, and I think experiencing a self-loathing that comes with FAILURE (never mind that they TELL YOU quitting takes practice, and in 22 years this is only the second time I've seen him try)--He was successful for 3 months and was feeling a lot of improvements. All shot. *sigh * I've asked exactly twice when he plans to try again, but acts like every time I see him I have nagged.



Oh, nobody does self-loathing quite like my husband can. It's a lovely 'give it back' kind of thing... not good after my illness, too busy, been gone thing.

THEN, I just realized part of the problem is I'm in EDITING mode, rather than WRITING. If I am writing, then every day I have an escape for a good 90 minutes into whatever story I am writing. When I am editing, I am stuck in the present. Have I expressed how I hate reality? Even my BLOGGING is in reality... partly because of being behind, so I missed a bunch (especially the prep time needed for several blogfests)... it's been sort of a dry week, with yesterday veering dangerously near the precipice of nasty...







But a few really great things have passed me this week, and I thought I'd share them with you.



First: Y'all know there is NOTHING better than Monty Python, right? And nothing CAMPIER than Star Trek, and this little number uses Monty Python to make Star Trek even sillier, and it makes me HAPPY!



Star Trek Meets Monty Python





Second: This fit my mood pretty darned perfectly because it is one of those CUTE, then so terrible that it's hysterical things (compliments of B. Miller that I found it)



How a fish almost destroyed my childhood





And finally, and this is probably my favorite: PAY IT FORWARD (also compliments of my buddy B.)



This Pay it Forward was a beautiful post by B. Miller about doing the right thing, and a CHALLENGE to all of us to Pay it Forward... do something nice NOT because you expect something back, but because if we all do, the world ends up nicer and ALL of us have more nice things happen... or so I look at this cosmic karma thing. I tweeted, I shared... but I also took it to my favorite people on the planet (yes, even before my children some days)--the Burrow.



We have a project in the works now, our July feature for our website: www.the-burrow.org. You see, about every other month we do a 'feature' where we all work together and create a project. Most reveal themselves slowly, inviting people to come back as the month progresses. In June, we are doing Alphabet Drabbles, largely in thanks to arleebird April Blogging A to Z idea.



Drabbles, for the uninitiated, are 'stories' in exactly 100 words. Mine are typically more slice of life or philosophy than story, because you know how hard it is for me to get to the point—STILL, it is a challenge of word economy and grammatical creativity sometimes. So in July, we are going to Pay it Forward. B. has even agreed to guest Drabble with us! (we're so excited!)



Adding to this, Kierah Reilly—a new twin of sorts (she and I are sharing geography if not timing) tagged me with her Pay it Forward Post in which she asked her followers to follow three people (me included!)--Her blog is GREAT, and I would LOVE it if you would return the favor, but I ALSO wanted to Pay it Forward.



I am doing two sets of three, because I have a couple long time friends who are relatively newer (or getting back to) blogging who I REALLY think you should follow. All of them are people I know because of Harry Potter... there are SO MANY of those...





Artistically Amy: Amy just finished her Master's Degree (MEd, I think), and is a TALENTED photographer. She is no slouch as a writer, so her blog is a fun mix of pictures and prose (typically prose about the pictures she's taken.

Awkward Book Girl: Bridge is a TALENTED young writer—she writes an emotional punch like nobody's business, and is brand new to blogging—her reflections thus far have been very sweet and entertaining.

And Bronx Tales and Inner Musings: Chary is one of my Burrow sisters, and her essays about her life and family often move me to tears. It's funny, of my fellow Burrowers, Chary is geographically closest, but she grew up in the Bronx, and so her life experiences are as opposite as this Idaho girl can find, yet they speak to me on every level. She's also got a special skill at writing really spicy stuff, if you'd help me talk her into it.





And THEN, I also wanted to recommend three blogs from people I've known far less long—blogs I love, people who've been incredibly supportive with comments.



Alex Cavanaugh 

Ella's Edge:

Alliterative Allomorph:







So, fine friends... go check these guys out... follow them if you will... and Pay if Forward!

VIKING POWER!

My friend Mari sent me a post card of wisdom that I received when I got home Sunday night. The Postcard has Viking Laws, and I love it even more for two details. The FIRST is that she taped two pins to it. One says:



Eat My Pants



and the other:



Sverige sugar (translation: Sweden Blows) *snort*





For the record, I am as much Swedish as I am Norwegian, though I've known much more about my Norwegian roots, as that grandma is the one I spent so much time with, and now I have a Norwegian friend/writing sister. But I actually adore this cute little rivalry... I note that it doesn't say DENMARK blows (which is where the actual animosity has a reason to exist, since those pesky Danes spent so many centuries trying to inflict rule on Norway, so I have to think this is more a sibling rivalry kind of thing, and THAT is why I can find it fun.



But the OTHER feature I love about this postcard, is Mari crossed out the word 'Viking' and wrote 'Writer', and then checked them off for me.



*hugs Mari *





So I want to share them with you, so you can become honorary Norsisima with me.

Viking Writer Laws

§1 BE BRAVE AND AGGRESSIVE

Be direct

Grab all opportunities

Use varying methods of attack

Be versatile and agile

Attack one target at a time

Don't plan everything in detail

Use top quality weapons

§2 BE PREPARED

Keep weapons in good conditions

Keep in good shape

Find good battle comrades

Agree on important points

Choose one chief agent

§3 BE A GOOD MERCHANT

Find out what the market needs

Don't promise what you can't keep

Don't demand overpayment

Arrange things so that you can return

§4 KEEP THE CAMP IN ORDER

Keep things tidy and organized

Arrange enjoyable activities which strengthen the group

Make sure everybody does useful work

Consult all members of the group for advice





I ADORE this applied to writing. Mari the Superstar checked me off on all of them, but I can see the benefit of a little more critical analysis.





§1: I feel like here I am doing pretty well—at least since taking on this cozy mystery project, which sort of embodies the spirit of this, I think... a chance came along and I am trying to make the very best of the opportunity, using all my resources... I'm adapting... a ninja of bendiness!



§2: I think here I've done pretty well too. I keep writing ALL the time. I read to try to learn what I don't know (or what I don't even know I need to know—THAT particular pool is VAST). I have the best comrades in the WORLD (and we are all over the world which makes me feel... you know... worldly...)



§3: I think other than feeding into that market assessment thing... I sort of need to write what comes... although I guess this Cozy Mystery thing is another way I am doing this... it is the niche where (hopefully) I can break in.. meeting demand. I also am being extremely careful to be as professional as possible, so I am ALWAYS invited back: provide good work, good product... and hope they want me.



§4: Here I fall down. I have sort of a free form approach to order, and I'm not sure anyone else would recognize it as such. I DO try to hold activities which strengthen the group... but I am not much of a dictator (Naked World Domination aspirations aside) and I am likewise sort of bossy—I WILL be the one in charge... when the bossy person is saying things like... “okay, everybody LIMBO!” I don't know how productive that is. It IS a good time though, and while it may not be enough to make me a full-fledged Viking, I'm pretty sure my Norsisima is in tact.

Zany Zodiac

So I have this new best friend Jason—you wanna hear how I met him? I'll give you a hint... the title gives a hint! *cough*



So anyway... coupla days ago on Facebook I get this message from a stranger.



“So I was reading your blog. What do you know about Gemini Earth Sheep?”



Well clearly NOT ENOUGH!



I was confused and scratched my head, then looked again. You know what threw me off? The darned Sheep! Let me e'splain...







Eastern versus Western Zodiac



This distinction is only difficult if you actively avoid learning about such things. WESTERN Astrology is the stuff you see in the daily paper...

ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, CAPRICORN, AQUARIUS, PISCES.



Aries begins with the Vernal Equinox (March 21, give or take) and each proceeds to last about a month and theoretically goes with a personality influence. What it MEANS is this is the sign at the BACK of the SUN on the day you were born—your sun sign. You also have a Western sign for every SINGLE other planet, and each planet (and the moon and pluto) have domains which define HOW that sign shows its influence. It's a lot of combos, and if you sit down with the list, almost everyone can spot WHY they might deviate from the standard description of their sign.



For example... I am a Cancer, which isn't terribly ME at all. Cancers are a clingy lot... emotionally insecure, home oriented... I DO identify with the crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside thing, and I definitely hang onto people, even if I lose a limb--once you're mine, I will NEVER let go *mad cackle*, but the limb grows back—resilience... but mostly... not so much..



Easily understood by my Virgo moon (so I am analytical about emotional stuff--an odd tick for an emotional sign), and my Gemini cusp (among my writer friends, there is a large flurry on this Gemini/Cancer cusp—a need to communicate (Gemini) in order to move or be moved (emotional Cancer). I think it's a perfect storm of the seeing and feeling, then being able to put it into words.



Aries is the starter............................ who never finishes anything.

Taurus is the lover............................ who tends to over indulge.

Gemini is the genius.......................... who is two-faced.

Cancer is the mother........................ who is needy.

Leo is the perfect host...................... who must be the center of attention.

Virgo is analytical and systematic...... and absolutely anal retentive.

Libra is balanced and fair.................. but can't make up his mind.

Scorpio charming and far sighted...... and secretive.

Sagittarius is happy and lucky........... and fickle.

Capricorn is hard-working............... and rigid.

Aquarius is FUN—a free-spirit........ who you probably shouldn't make plans around.

Pisces is perceptive.......................... and neurotic.



What else could there BE?

Well then we have the Eastern Astrology! The one I have learned is Chinese.



Confucius held a party and twelve animals came—he gave them each a year in the Chinese 'decade', he presented them with years in the order they showed up.



Rat was first.-- gregarious and LUCKY (Confucius' gift for being first to arrive)



Ox is hard working.

Tiger is seductive.

Cat is refined.

Dragon is charismatic.

Snake is amiable.

Horse is independent.

Goat is creative.

Monkey is clever.

Rooster is confident.

Dog is loyal.

Pig is giving.







So what was the sheep like, again? Say WHAT?



See, this is where I got confused by my best friend, Jason. OTHER countries have a few trades here... and it confuses the HECK out of me. My brother-in-law once asked me about Rabbits. (Bunny, what?)



Cat → Rabbit

Goat → Sheep

Pig → Boar



Therein was the initial confusion... Trickey Rabbit, Cats are for... well you get the idea...







Elemental Madness



To top it off, the Eastern Astrology has 5 elements (water, earth wood, fire, metal), each lasting two years, so in combination with the animals, they make up a 60 year 'Century'.





Overlay this with Western Astrology and we have 720 combinations. NOW maybe you understand why I was a little confused by my best friend, Jason's question... I mean, had he said a Cancer Fire Horse, there would have been no confusion whatsoever (or a Virgo Water Tiger—hubby, a Taurus Wooden-Pig---daughter...) but those animals that change with country—in fact a wooden boar, even though I HAVE one would have confused me.



So now YOU have heard a little something on the complexity, TOO—I know some stuff—pretty quick access to the traits that go with people I love, but some of it is harder to access, because... you know—there is A LOT OF STUFF!





ZOINKS



And there is a celebration on Sunday, if you are in the New York area that I feel obliged to share, even if I AM jealous of anyone who might be able to participate. This is the email I got:



This is all part of a movement we are creating, called The Levity Project.  http://lifelaughterlevity.com/

In honor of World Laughter Day, on this coming Sunday (May 2nd), we are taking to the streets of New York City to create some of this playfulness and fun, with the idea that through joy, we can all experience a bit more peace in our world.



Do you live near New York City?  Do you have friends, relatives, acquaintances that live there?  You are all invited to this celebration of fun! (please share this with those you know who live close to NYC!)





I can't think of much better (except maybe if they were doing this naked)—Peace through laughter is just ultimately appealing to me, so I hope there are some of you who CAN.